


Long Distance Lullaby

by foxcatcher



Series: International Purveyors of Pornography [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drunk Dialing, Enzo Has a Lot of Feelings and No Idea How to Deal With Them, Fluff and Angst, I Know I've Got Terrible Timing, Longing, M/M, Short & Soppy, macho posturing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 23:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxcatcher/pseuds/foxcatcher
Summary: Goodnight soul mate, I know I'm in no stateTo call you up and keep you up so lateBut I had to hear you talking in my earI've been so lonely since you left me here-The one where Enzo is a drunken mess and far, far away from home.





	Long Distance Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Long Distance Lullaby" by Stornoway: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dSQfBJprms
> 
> Can be read independently of the AU, if you're not into that. I just wanted to write some soppy, soppy long-distance stuff.

> Goodnight soul mate, I know I'm in no state  
>  To call you up and keep you up so late  
>  But I had to hear you talking in my ear  
>  I've been so lonely since you left me here

-

Enzo was pretty sure his key card hated him.

Here he was, having dragged himself back to his hotel after one of the worst nights of his life, and the little bastard simply refused to fit into the card slot, no matter how slowly he wobbled his hand towards it. It was probably a miracle that no one had seen or heard him yet – it felt like he’d been here for hours, trying to get into his room. He might have. Things had gotten a little fuzzy at some point. He pawed at the slot again, fighting the urge to scream as his hand veered off course and knocked into the handle instead, sending the card tumbling to the floor.

“Gggnnnnnh---“

Taking a deep breath, he leant his forehead against the cool surface of the door and closed his eyes, trying to make the corridor spin less violently around him. He remembered wearing a hat earlier, but it must have got lost somewhere on the way back from the bar. Fuck, it had been a nice one, too. Real Gucci.

When he opened his eyes, the card was staring up at him from the floor, like it was mocking him. Little fucker. He’d be damned if a bit of plastic was going to get the best of him. Determined, and more than a little unsteady, he crouched down to pick it up. One more try. One more try, and then he’d give up for good and sleep in the corridor. With one arm braced against the door, he slowly inched the card towards the slot with the kind of intense concentration only found in the truly shit-faced.

_Bingo._

There was a flash of green light, a soft click, and then he was falling face-first through the door.

-

It was a fitting end to evening, really, Enzo thought, lying as still as he could while the door closed behind him. Nothing about this awful trip had gone as it should. He’d been an idiot in the first place for thinking that he as heading up when he’d been asked to accompany their casting agent on his next trip to the UK. He’d just been the only person stupid enough to say yes – they’d barely boarded the plane before Mr. Regal had made it _very_ clear that he didn’t need “some bloody loudmouth Yank” to screw things up, so he had better keep his trap shut unless he wanted to be sent home in instalments. London turned out to be all wrong, too, dull and grey and full of people who seemed to hate him for no good reason. After barely three days, Enzo was so homesick he felt ill.

Which was too bad, since he was stuck here for another week.

Gingerly, he scraped himself off the floor, only to collapse on the bed. His stomach lurched at the impact. Had he remembered to eat today? Did Guinness count? Behind the thick fog of alcohol, he knew he ought to get some water in him before he fell asleep, and maybe an aspirin or two, or at the very least take his shoes off, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was going to feel like shit in the morning anyway, might as well be responsible for it.

It wouldn’t have been like this if Cass had been here. Cass would’ve scooped him up with one arm, tucked him in and stroked his hair, all while scolding him in that soft voice he got whenever Enzo was being an idiot and he knew he couldn’t stay mad at him. Had Cass been here, he wouldn’t have gone out to get pissed on his own in the first place. With no Cass, Enzo remained motionless on top of the comforter, like a beached whale. He buried his face in the stiff material and it smelled like nothing at all, just stale air and industrial cleaner.

He felt like crying. Actually, he was pretty sure he already was.

_Good fuckin’ job, Amore. Big, strong man, and now you’re bawlin’ your eyes out just ‘cause you miss your boyfriend. You’re a wet disgrace._

Enzo hiccupped weakly into the sheets. He had never thought he’d end up like this, but he felt like half a fucking person without Cass’s solid bulk next to him. It was like he’d carried a weight with him ever since he got on the plane, and it had finally worn him down, eating through skin and muscle until there was only naked bone left. He rolled onto his side and stared into the darkness, and the distance between them seemed impossibly big.

He felt like he might go mad if he didn’t do something, but he couldn’t call. He’d lose if he called – he’d be giving in to that little voice inside him that told him he was soft and needy and useless. Weak. What would Cass think of him if he came blubbering down the phone like some goddamned _girl_. And yet, he already had his phone in front of him, the harsh blue-yellow light of the screen swimming in front of his eyes. His thumb was hovering over the call button.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

He’d already pressed call.

He pushed himself up to lean against the headboard as the phone rang, his heart wounding itself a little tighter in his chest with every ring that passed without Cass picking up. Two rings. Three. Four. Chewing on his thumbnail, he stared into the room, afraid to blink, to move, afraid to even breathe, like it might jinx it. Five. Six. Sev-

“Hhnmmmph?”

Enzo was so relieved to hear Cass’s sleepy grumble, he nearly forgot how to talk.

“Hey, big guy,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice even.

“-Zo? You a’right? Wh’ time ‘s it?”

Shit. Fucking time zones. He hadn’t even thought about that – he had no idea what time it was in London, apart from “too fucking late”, God knew what time it was back home. And Cass had work in the morning, what kind of selfish asshole was he?

“S-sorry, I didn’t-, I know it’s late, I just- “

“…Nah, ‘s fine, jus’ give me a sec.”

There was some muffled rustling, a click of the bedside lamp, before Cass was back.

“There,” he said, marginally less drowsy than before. It sounded like he was laying on his side. “’s better”

“’m so sorry, Cass, I didn’t think-, “ Enzo rambled, picking at the cool quilted fabric of the blanket he was sitting on. His throat hurt. 

“Hey, it’s fine, ‘Zo, it’s fine,” Cass interrupted him gently. “It’s nice to hear from you. Feels like you’ve been gone forever, y’know. How’s England?”

Enzo gave a wet bark of a laugh. “I hate it. Food’s awful and it rains all the time, and no one knows anythin’ ‘bout real sports.”

Cass laughed back, thick and sleepy. It made the coil in Enzo’s chest relax just a little bit.

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

-

It hadn't quite been an invitation, but Enzo had never passed on an opportunity to talk about himself. Sliding down to lie on his side, he slurred his way through three days of British weather and running after Regal, while Cass made soft, encouraging sounds back, until the sounds became softer and softer and less frequent.

“Hey, Cass?”

“Mhm?” Cass sounded like he was mostly out already, and Enzo could see him, the secret Cass that only he got to see – warm and tousled with sleep, his hair spread out over the pillows and his arms curled around an empty space on the bed. _Their_ bed. The thought made Enzo feel almost dizzy.

“I love you.” And he did. Jesus, he did.

“I love you too, buddy. Come home soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling into the darkness. Maybe he’d get through the week just fine. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> (I realise I have the worst timing in the world, considering recent events. I wasn't sure whether to post it or not - I wasn't even sure if I ought to adress the timing at all, in fear of creating a huge discussion. But in the end, I've spent time and effort writing this, and was happy with the outcome, however short and silly it might be, and it'll be read by a handful of people, if I'm lucky. The Enzo and Cass in my story have nothing to do with the real-life people behind the characters, especially considering this is an AU. Thank you for reading.)


End file.
